Unwelcome Arrival
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: Twenty-five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a follower of darkness returns to pick up where she left off. one shot.


**Author's Note:** Written for...

Appreciating the Females Challenge. _Prompt:_ Bellatrix Lestrange

Hogwarts Assignment #10. _Task:_ Write about a ghost.

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 **Unwelcome Arrival**

 _755 words_

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Time was moving slowly at first. The blood traitor had shot her and now she was dying, falling to the cold stone floor and it was taking forever.

Merlin knows how long she was in the darkness, and then there was light again and time had sped up.

She watched the rebuilding of Hogwarts in the blink of an eye. Suddenly students were coming and going before her but she couldn't interact with them. People looked in her direction but couldn't see her, even walked right through her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move.

It was beyond frustrating to be ignored. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that before her the frustration grew to anger and time slowed to a normal pace.

She was still standing in the Great Hall, in the exact spot she died in, but she could move now. It only took a moment for her to realize she was a ghost, suddenly floating and able to see through her own hands.

Her first thought was of the Dark Lord. She hadn't seen the outcome of his battle, and though she'd watched as the mudbloods returned to the school, that may have only meant that he was once more hiding in the shadows. She needed to know if he was still alive.

The Slytherin common room wasn't far, and offered her the best chance of finding out what had happened. Surely she couldn't have been trapped in the school for very long. There had to be someone left in her old house who supported the Dark Lord.

:-:

The common room was always too stuffy for Scorpius. He loved spending time outdoors and feeling the breeze on his face as he did his homework. But it was late at night now and he could afford to get caught out of bed in order to finish his essay. He was the only one left in the common room, lying flat on his stomach in front of the fire and spending more time doodling on the page than writing.

He didn't think twice when he saw something more out of the corner of his eye. The Bloody Baron would often wander through the rooms during the night and stay hidden during the day. If anything, it was comforting to know someone else was there.

"Do you know anything about poisonous spores?" he muttered, drawing a plant eating Professor Longbottom whole. "This is due in the morning."

"I'm afraid not," the ghost said.

Scorpius startled at the unfamiliar voice, sitting up quickly. He stared at the ghost in shock. None of the others ever ventured into the common room.

"Draco?" the woman said uncertainly.

"My name is Scorpius." Many people had made the comparison between Scorpius and his father over the years, but none had been genuinely confused before. Something about the mistake brought to mind the family photographs Scorpius' grandmother often showed him and suddenly he recognized the strange ghost. "Bellatrix Lestrange?"

She smiled in a way that sent chills down Scorpius' spine. His father hadn't held back in telling him about all of the dark mistakes made by the previous generations of their family.

"The Dark Lord," she breathed, floating closer to him. Scorpius backed up against the wall and reached for his wand. "Does the Dark Lord live?"

"No. Voldemort's dead."

The ghost reeled back. "No, it can't be. He has to have survived."

"He died with the rest of you maniacs over twenty years ago," he spat.

Bellatrix glared at him. "You're lucky I don't have my wand, boy, or I'd teach you a lesson for using the Dark Lord's name."

"You would do no such thing."

Both boy and ghost turned to the door as both McGonagall and Slughorn entered the room with wands raised.

"Sir Nicholas saw you heading down here." Slughorn hurried to pull Scorpius away from the ghost as McGonagall rounded on her.

" _Hanc exspiravit_." A golden light flooded from the headmistress' wand and engulfed Bellatrix. When the light faded, the ghost was gone. McGonagall turned to Scorpius and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She won't be coming back. Are you alright?"

He nodded, still surprised by the unexpected visit. "But she's been dead for years. Why would she become a ghost now?"

"Sometimes they take a while to manifest," Slughorn explained. "It depends on the instability of the person themselves. And I believe Bellatrix Lestrange's mental instability is well known."

McGonagall nodded gravely. "We'll have to be on the lookout for any more arrivals."


End file.
